


Peanut Butter

by youwerefantasticrose



Category: Doctor Who, Roski - Fandom, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwerefantasticrose/pseuds/youwerefantasticrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki <i>loves</i> peanut butter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peanut Butter

Rose lay in bed for a while, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not for any particular reason; it was just one of those nights, tossing and turning, mind unable to shut off.

After a few hours of staring at the ceiling, she finally got up, throwing on her dressing gown over her tank top and pajama shorts. She yawned, tying it loosely in the front, and padded to the kitchen. Might as well make some warm milk or something.

As she stepped into the kitchen, she saw him. Loki was leaning against the counter, looking off into space pensively. She had to stifle a laugh when she saw what was in his hands.

“No wonder we’re always out of peanut butter,” she said as she walked in. He froze at the sound of her voice, his hand stopped halfway to his open mouth, fingers covered in the stuff. She laughed, and he relaxed, rolling his eyes at her.

“It seems Midgard has invented one good thing, Rose,” he said with a smirk, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Apparently,” she said, purposely bumping into him as he lifted his hand toward his mouth, causing him to smear the peanut butter on his cheek.

 

She laughed loudly, eyes sparkling.

“Rose Tyler!” he said, glaring at her. “How dare you!”

She was still laughing, head tilted back, when he reached out with his still-covered-hand and swiped it across her exposed neck, chuckling as she shrieked.

“Loki!”

“You started it,” he said, smirking, peanut butter still smeared on his cheek.

“True,” she said, grabbing the peanut butter from the counter and screwing the lid back on. “And I’m ending it too.” She gave him a tongue-touched grin, opening the cabinet and putting it back inside.

She stepped back in front of him, leaning back on the counter.

“I—” she stopped with a laugh. “You still have peanut butter all over you.”

She reached out with a finger and dragged it across his cheek, swiping the peanut butter off of it. She grinned, then stuck her finger into her mouth without a thought. His eyes widened, and she blushed, seeming to realize how intimate a gesture that was.

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, her face flushing as she refused to meet his eyes. He looked at her for a moment, her blonde hair covering half her face, the other half flushing a lovely shade of pink. He took a step toward her, and she looked up, her eyes wide as they met his. He took another step forward, and they were suddenly so close that she could feel him, his warmth and his smell and she had to remember how to breathe, in, out, in, out.

He reached out cautiously, moving her hair with his hand, pushing it behind her ear. He leaned down, and she closed her eyes.

She gasped as his mouth went to her throat, his lips pressing there gently. She took in a shuddering breath, and his mouth opened, his tongue warm against her skin, swirling, taking his time dispensing with the peanut butter.

She reached for his shoulders to steady herself, her knees suddenly seeming useless in keeping her standing. At this, his hands gripped her waist, and he lifted her, setting her on the counter, his lips still on her neck. She whimpered as he bit down gently, his whole body now between her legs as she sat on the counter and he stood in front of her.

He pulled back, his eyes dark as they met hers. They stared at each other for a second, his hands still on her waist, hers still on his shoulders. She took in every inch of his face: his black, disheveled hair, his pale skin, the slight furrow in his brow, and his eyes, deep and piercing and seeming to look through her, to see all of her. Her stomach tightened at the look in his eyes, and she suddenly moved her hands to the back of his neck, pulling him toward her, her mouth crashing into his.

His mouth opened against hers, warm and rough and peanutty, and she hummed against it in pleasure, her hands moving up into his hair. He pressed harder into her, pressing their bodies together, his hands reaching under her thin dressing gown, pressing against her back through her tank top.

She gasped again at the feel of his hands on her, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. He pulled away for a second, letting her pull it over his head, and then he reached for her again, pulling open her dressing gown, lifting her up for a moment so she can tear it off, tossing it onto the floor. He slipped his hands under her tank top, his hands caressing her bare back, and she shivered against him, her lips finding his throat. He growled, and she felt it through his throat, felt his heart racing.

He grabbed her waist again then, pushing her back further onto the counter, and he climbed onto it, straddling her as she laid down on her back. He pulled her shirt off roughly, his hands finding her breasts. He’s exploring her body, hands and mouth and god, do that again—

“Loki?” she said breathlessly.

“Yes?” he answered, looking up from her lower half.

“We’re going to buy more peanut butter tomorrow.”

He laughed against her stomach.

“Agreed.”


End file.
